


Purple: Pink, Green

by vociferocity



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vociferocity/pseuds/vociferocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gakupo's life takes a turn for the strange, and the better. Set during the Akuno series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple: Pink, Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ki](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ki).



> I hope you like your story, Ki! Fingers crossed there's enough fluff in there for you :D

_Gakupo had met her when he was much younger, when he was a foolish nobleman belonging to a court full of other foolish noblemen who all thought they were much less foolish than they actually were. He had gone out for a walk, bored by the constant reading and writing of insipid poetry based around the beauty of the author, or sometimes, of the recipient. He had gone out into the woods, expecting to perhaps find some deer, or flowers, or to just lose himself in the general beauty of nature._

_He hadn't expected to come across a woman, all but naked, pink hair piled elegantly on her head. He certainly hadn't expected that woman to be wielding a sword, stepping though complicated, fast dances, spinning it around, slashing it, and parrying invisible blades._

_He hadn't tried to talk to her, not that day. Just kept the image of her in his head, knowing that he had lost his heart to the mysterious, beautiful woman._

_When he did manage to talk to her, he made a fool out of himself. He introduced himself as a nobleman, with a high position, and she just laughed at him. A kind laugh, but a patronising one._

_Although she made it clear that, if anything, she pitied him, she let him spend time with her, let him watch her as she practiced, and eventually let him practice with her. She had to teach him almost everything about the art of swordsmanship, and when she did, she also taught him about honour, about nobility, about how to value himself as a person above whatever else he may become. _

_And, eventually, she taught him how to make love._

_He gave up everything he had, not because he needed to give it up to be with her, but because he no longer believed in who he was, in the money and the clothes and the sycophancy. He and the lady and their swords and armour took their leave of that kingdom, and they traveled, fighting when they were needed, and making love when they were not. _

_They eventually settled down, Gakupo and Luka. They started a farm, but before they could start a family, they began to hear rumours of a terrible war, in Gakupo's home kingdom._

_Of course they went to help fight._

_And Luka, who wasn't as young as she used to be, who wasn't as limber or as skilled, not after spending months on a farm, wielding rakes, not swords, was cut down by a young blond man, who was clearly on a mission. He disappeared into the crowds, and Gakupo never got his chance to take him on, to try to avenge Luka._

_He knew she wouldn't have wanted him to avenge her, anyway. She would have wanted him to continue to live, to mourn her by celebrating her life._

_And he did. _

_He attempted to make a new family, he met a young girl in another kingdom, but her thoughts were solely focused on revenge, and although he agreed to train her in the way of the sword, she refused to listen to his other lessons._

_And one day, when Meiko finally had the support of the rest of the villagers, when finally she could stand up and talk to them without a young man challenging her right to lead them, Gakupo knew that he wouldn't be with her much longer. When Meiko's revenge was through, when she had no more purpose for her life, he knew she'd reach out to him for purpose, and he had none for her. So when the chance came to leave, he took it, even though he had no idea where it would take him._

_Perhaps this was the kind of living that Luka would have wanted him to do._

 

\--

 

The scream rips through the night. It's not the first scream that Gakupo's heard that night, and he knows it won't be the last. This night is so unlike the ones he has become used to of late, nights full of silence, of peace, of just him and his thoughts. This one has blood and chaos and rage, things he used to know intimately.

And while he's prepared for all those things, he's all but desensitised to them, he's not prepared for this scream.

This scream is young, it's full of utter, untainted fear, it's completely unlike the other screams he's heard tonight - the screams of rage, of pain, of hardened, weary warriors, of focused, furious, villagers. This one has obviously come from a young girl.

Leaving Meiko (she throws him a quick glance, but only one. He has trained her well, and they both know it. She doesn't need him here - the gaps in her knowledge and training will be filled with her determination to win tonight, to dethrone the evil princess), he follows the sound of the scream. He knows, logically, that it has stopped, but in his mind it continues; a pure sound in this chaotic night.

Gakupo dashes into a dark alley, and stops short. And stares.

The scream was coming from a girl, a girl younger than he'd been when he'd met the woman who'd changed his whole life. She’s on the ground, hand clasped against her shoulder, as though she's trying to hide a red stain that's steadily growing larger, and harder to conceal. Over her stands one of the princess' soldiers, a bloody sword in his hand.

The girl and the soldier stare at him; obviously neither had expected someone to interfere.

After a moment which feels like an eternity, Gakupo breaks the silence.

"What...what do you think you're _doing_?" he asks, striding towards them.

"Don't get involved," the soldier yells, scowling. "This girl is one of the rebels, and must be treated as such!"

Gakupo stares at him in disbelief. Then he realises why he's being spoken to so familiarly: he has neither the red flags nor armour that denote a member of the rebels. The soldier clearly has no idea who he is. He grins dangerously, showing teeth.

"The girl is no threat to you," he says calmly, raising his own sword. "She has no weapons, look at her. She's far too young to be a rebel warrior. I, however, am not."

The soldier takes a hesitant step back, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

"W-who are you?" He asks, brandishing his sword in what he probably means to be an intimidating gesture. It makes Gakupo want to laugh.

"Oh, you've heard of me," he says. "I'm sure you have. I'll give you a hint - it rhymes with 'the mamurai'."

He blanches, face gone pale. "N-no," he stammers, "you were killed in the war! Everyone said--"

"Everyone was wrong," Gakupo says, that dangerous smile of his just widening.

After a moment, the soldier's will breaks, and he flees down the alley; whether just to get away from the legendary swordsman, or to tell someone that he's returned, Gakupo's not sure. He also doesn't really care. There's something -- someone -- more important to deal with.

He kneels on the dirty ground, and looks at the girl. She hasn't said a word since her unearthly scream, there are tear tracks running down her sweet face, matting her green hair to her face, and she's biting her lip. Probably against the pain, Gakupo realises, looking at the still spreading stain on her orange dress.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and as soon as he's said it, he wants to take it back. She's clearly _not_ okay, not with that wound.

She looks at him, clearly thinking the same thing.

"Do I...look okay?" she gasps, with a glare that is possibly supposed to scare him away, he's not sure. It makes her look like she's on the verge of tears, which she probably is.

"Well, no." He says, looking at her kindly.

She brings her hand off her shoulder, looks at the blood covering her hand and her shoulder, and shudders, holding back a sob. She looks at him, eyes fearful, and then looks at the ground.

"Am I going to die?" she whispers.

He doesn't know. He has no idea how deep the wound is, or if it's infected or not.

"Where do you live?" he asks, ignoring her question for now.

She continues to look at the ground, but now he can see a slight blush on her face.  “Here," she says softly.

He is about to ask '_where_ here?’ thinking she means 'here' as in the city, and then a thought strikes him, and he looks around. And he sees the alley with new eyes. The pile of rags over there would be a perfect bed for a girl of this size, if the tiniest bit small, especially as it's under a high balcony - shelter, if it ever rained.

He curses under his breath, thinking of the soldier who would attack a clearly unarmed and weak girl who lives on the street, and then scoops her into his arms, bridal style, and stands. She lets out a soft scream and faints, the movement jarring her wound beyond what she can bear. It's good. It makes this part easier.

 

\--

 

Gakupo can hear the fighting in other parts of the city as he walks, carefully holding the green-haired girl in his arms. From the sounds of things, they've reached the castle. He knew they wouldn't have much trouble - the soldiers are tired and injured from the long war, and Meiko and the villagers have righteous fury on their side.

He walks and walks. He doesn't even notice when his feet start to protest, he is so used to walking past this point.

He walks through the night, out of the city, and deep into the kingdom, to a hidden valley that only he and the lady who taught him everything he knows about swords had known about. There was a small farm and a cottage there, nestled between tall hills.

By the time he had reached the cottage, the injured girl had woken a few times, just to faint again after her wound was jostled.

She's placed on the only bed in the cottage, and he carefully cleans, treats and bandages her wound. It's not too bad, and as long as he makes sure she rests for a while, she'll heal fine. He's relieved, although he's a little surprised at the depth of the emotion. It's been a long time since he actually cared about someone, let alone someone he'd just met. It had happened only once before.

He's not stupid, he knows the feelings that he'd had for Luka were different to the feelings he now has for this girl, and he knows he's not going to get them confused. He wants to protect this girl, care for her, give her what she obviously hasn't had; a family, whether she wants one or not. He doesn’t want to kiss away her tears, although he does want to hurt the people who put them there.

He watches her sleep, eyes like bruises on that pale skin, mouth trembling in what is obviously a bad dream. She twitches once, twice, reflexively twisting in the bed to get away from something in her dream. Gakupo puts his hand on her shoulder, pats it, and tries to calm her down. He murmurs nonsense words to her, hums snatches of half-forgotten lullabies, and by the time she's quieted down, he's close to sleep as well.

After he builds up the fire, he curls up on the hearth, and stares into the crackling flames. It hurts his eyes, but he stares deeper, further into the flames, willing himself to be able to do what he has never done before, what he has seen Luka do a thousand times. He keeps his eyes open for so long that he almost forgets that they're open, that they hurt, and then something shifts, and he's looking _through_ the flames and--

_There will be a green hill. The sky will be blue, and there won't be a cloud in the sky. There will be two people sitting on the top of the hill._

_One will have purple hair, kept long for reasons known only to him and a girl long-since dead. The other will have green hair, kept short as a memento of the time she spent in the city, alone, where long hair was only for girls who had the time to wash and brush it every day._

_They will be holding hands, sitting on the grass, and laughing about something, a joke that means something to only them._

_Between the two of them, there will be a bond. One not born from necessity, or from a shared experience of terror, or a fight that they both had to fight. It will be the kind of bond that grows from trust, from the kind of deep friendship that is developed over years, where the friends are more like siblings._

_They will be happy. Happier, perhaps, than they have been for years. _

\--he blinks, and the vision vanishes. He looks at the girl on his bed, one last time before he falls asleep, and the afterimage of the vision burns bright in his mind.

It won't be an ending, but it will be happy.


End file.
